


Winter Fire

by amelia_welsh



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Child Death, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Crack, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Minor Character Death, Parental Death, Romantic Fluff, Sexual Abuse, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, Slow Romance, Sporadic Updates, slight angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-04 07:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12766272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amelia_welsh/pseuds/amelia_welsh
Summary: It was awkward. Odd even, but still somehow cute. It was hers. Her smile was lopsided and average, and Beverly loved it.Cassidy Floris is a fifteen-year-old girl just trying to get through the day without being terrorized by the Bower's Gang or be overwhelmed by the stress she lugs around with her like an extra set of weights. She longs for something that will change her everyday life and help her with her home life with her step-father, and maybe a group of boys and a certain auburn haired female can help her.With a shapeshifting devil lying under the town of Derry, Maine and terrors walking the earth beside Cassidy, she will have to be the one who helps herself in the situation of romance and fear.





	1. Dark Side of Me

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Blood(of my loved ones) and Control(of myself)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12347844) by [Squeakpocalypse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeakpocalypse/pseuds/Squeakpocalypse). 



> Hello, this is my first IT fan-book and am hoping that if people read it, they will like it.
> 
> The chapter name is inspired (musically) by the link at the beginning of the chapter. I was constantly listening to it while writing the chapter and was hyped for its release. Afterwards, I was browsing through Beverly fan-fictions and read so many I liked but one, in particular, grabbed my attention. 
> 
> I haven't edited this yet so if there are mistakes, please do excuse them because I will edit this book later.
> 
> Please note: I've aged up the Losers Club to fourteen instead of thirteen like they were in the new IT adaption because I'm against miners being inappropriately portrayed sexually and it just suits the book. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy my book.

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NrQ68qLQpMI> (song to listen if you want to while reading this book.)

 

Cassidy Floris had hunched shoulders as she swiftly traipsed past the Bowers Gang. Her gaze was directed to the floor, deep sea eyes reflecting anxiety. Nobody would blame her though, the seven boys in total could strike fear in teachers too. Henry Bowers, Victor Criss, Patrick Hockstetter, Reginald “Belch” Huggins, Peter Gordon, Gard Jagermeyer and Moose Sadler were terrors, although the first four were more of the offenders then the last three. Nonetheless, they were not a bunch to be meddled with, psychopaths littering the group with one holding solipsistic views. Cassidy turned a corner and could breathe a little easier as she hopped up the stairs, taking two at a time to get to her third period classroom.

She was tired, if the bags under her eyes said anything about she held herself. Her love of learning had dimed due to the continuous waking of unearthly times and judgemental peers and harmful gossip. Useless information being shoved in her face deterred her from making mistakes and changing positively due to them, believing her discovery of a new thing she didn’t know before could be something that bothered others and turned them against her. She had stress forced upon her by those who taught her and those she worked with, the endless trials tiring her to the point of exhaustion.

As she passed through the doorway to her classroom, she took a seat neat the middle of the classroom. There was little chatter in the room due to the others that sat in her homeroom few and far between. She pulled out the hanging locket that sat between her breasts, snug I her bra and cradled it with a gentleness that reminded her of her mother. Julie Femmer was a beauty, her dark chocolate hair always cut into short curls that curled into her jaw and neck, and the hazel eyes that were littered with flecks of green always reminded Cassidy of the greenhouse her grandfather used to take care off.

The abrupt scratching of the metal legs of the seats behind her made her jump. She had been staring at the locket for too long. With the ringing of the bell, she shoved it back into its hiding place and shifted her dress to make her more comfortable with how it was sitting. As the teacher walked in, so did Victor Criss and Reginald Huggins. Their composure with how the teacher looked at them something that had never deterred them from pissing him off.

“How kind of you to arrive to form today, boys.” Mr Tennar said, his cowlicked hair a straw colour. “Please take a seat unless you plan to skip again.” The teachers sarcastic drone fell on deaf ears.

As the two just strode right past Cassidy, Victor’s white-blonde hair something Cassidy often wondered if it was soft or not. His brown eyes flickered with recognition as he looked at her and sent a lopsided smirk to her and she flushed lightly, the embarrassment of being caught staring more apparent than the slight attraction she felt for him. They sat behind her and as Cassidy lifted her head more she could feel someone’s gaze on her and let out a shuddering exhale. Dark almond eyes bore a hole into the back of Cassidy’s head. Victor’s gaze was intense but not threatening; they had been in the same class since the third grade, when Cassidy had first moved to Derry, Maine.

Mr Tennar had already begun form when Cassidy’s name was called, and replied with a soft voice and a reassuringly raised hand to make her attendance solid in fact. She paid little notice to the notices that were read out by an unlucky student who was being too snobbish. Her hand wrapped around her shoulder bag as the bell rang and she was the second student out of the class, her rush something few paid attentions too.

Time seemed to fly slowly by as she grew bored during her math class with the infamous mullet-haired leader at the back of the class peering at anyone ominously if they dared to turn to look, the lanky Patrick Hockstetter seated beside the filthy blonde, chair pushed back and back hunched almost unnaturally. Her chemistry class spent with the chauffeur of the group, his blue Trans Am well known; biology spent with her head in her notes, the dark-haired psycho seated right behind her with his green ruler and fly infested pencil case the only thing he possessed as his crazed, dulled eyes stared straight ahead, face devoid of any emotion.

Cassidy’s physical education class was by far the most tiring, stress rising high, the whole of the Bowers Gang present and barely participating unless the activity had something to do with the harm of those who they “played” against. Cassidy got four new bruises, two of the four turning a dark blue purple; a reminder that Patrick’s aim something one wouldn’t want to mess with. He had enjoyed the way she winced as she lightly prodded at the marks, eyes alit with sick pleasure. She had scurried to the changerooms, her long hair pulled back into a tight ponytail that rested on the nape of her neck.

Dark chocolate coloured curls hung loosely, much like how Julie’s was, but with more of a wild curl and almost three times in its length. As she stripped down and ran the water in the farthest wash area, she exhaled against the stream hat rose around her and scrubbed roughly at her sweaty skin, the freckles that scattered across her shoulders and clavicle, also littering under her breasts and hips becoming a strawberry field, white skin now tinted. Cassidy cut the water and dried herself, dressing quickly in the showering cubicle, her bike shorts almost invisible under her darkly coloured dress, the hem fluttering above her knees. She walked out of the girls’ locker room and into the gym, her teacher sitting on the bleachers and flipping through papers, not bothering to look up at her. Not like Cassidy would have been heard, her footsteps silent against the rolled vinyl, SignaFlex, that was spread across under her.

She sat down and dried her feet more, slipping her socks on just as loud laughter erupted from the boys’ locker rooms, four of the seven terrors strolling out with pride rolling off them in fierce waves. A couple other girls were seated nearby Cassidy and for a moment, she was tempted to scoot over and sit with them to make it seem like she wasn’t alone, but she decided against it. She wasn’t that noticeable anyways. Or so she believed.

Victor watched the brunette, his almond coloured eyes gazing over her figure. The grey dress Cassidy wore seemed loose against her frame, her body shape unknown to the boy as he sat with his friends, half listening to their crude words about how they had just tormented someone in their class. He skimmed his gaze over the bloomed bruises that were visible, two of them peeking out from under her clothing. One on her left leg and the other just under her clavicle, showing the fragility Cassidy possessed.

Cassidy yawned against her palm that came to cover her gaping mouth. One more lesson then she could go home, and hopefully, her father wasn’t home just yet, so she could get some of her homework done before she would be truly exhausted. She liked learning Spanish but didn’t understand what she would use it for, as well as the confusion that she had towards her extra lessons of Latin that she took on Thursday evenings, of course following her fathers’ instructions.

The shrill echoed of the bell through the school jolted Cassidy as practically every student rushed out of the gym doors to get to the tuckshop, to line up and get food into their greedy pie-holes. She slowly rose and dusted herself off, the imaginary dust on her floating off the skirt of the dress she wore. Her worn brown boots echoed each step she took in the gym, the half-inch heels something that she liked about her shoes. Cassidy didn’t bother with a goodbye greeting to her teacher. She just headed to the girls’ bathrooms instead.

The hallways of the school weren’t busy, not like how they would be if it was time to head to the next lesson but Cassidy didn’t mind. The occasional greeting was given to her but other than that, none spoke to her and neither did she. By the time she got to the bathrooms, there was a scent of cigarettes emitting from the first urinals and a few girls stood in front of the cubicle. Gretta Keene and her bitches. Cassidy cleared her throat and stood to her full height, which was not an astounding feat but still something that could make a thirteen or fourteen-year-old girl nervous.

“Can you leave?” she said, fringe brushing against her cheekbone softly as she tilted her head slightly. “Some people come in here to do their business, not have shitty words with poor grammar thrown at them.” Her eyebrows, furrowed and dark, portrayed her agitation towards the group of girls and a couple scuffled their shoes at the look.

Gretta huffed and let out a wailing chuckle, trying to sound so brave. “And you are?”

“Someone who doesn’t want to get to know you and your stupidity.” With a click of her tongue, Cassidy took a step towards the shorter girl, “Can you _leave_?” her blue eyes darkened with a threatening promise and Gretta slunk away, calling for her minions to follow her.  They left and for a few moments the bathroom was silent before the quiet thud of the burning cigarette met the cubicle wall and Cassidy turned to the locked door. “They’re gone now, you can come out.”

The lock clicked and out came a girl with auburn hair, like a burning fire in winter, a blaze that could burn someone in the best of ways, and eyes of blue slate. Her freckles covered her face far in between and the first thought that came to Cassidy’s mind was _how_ _cute_ and she flushed because she knew she was staring. Beverly Marsh’s hair hung down her back, collected in a low ponytail, draped lazily over her right shoulder. Her eyes stared at the brunette before her and she couldn’t help the overwhelming urge to play with the long tussles.

“Your eyes – they’re like a restless sea.”

Beverly hadn’t even realised she had spoken until after the colour across Cassidy’s cheekbones darkened and spread down to her neck. She huffed a little laugh and Beverly awkwardly did the same and both girls smiled at one another, their dark eyes brightening just a little.

Miracles truly did come in all different shapes and sizes.


	2. Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassidy is reminded of her restricted liberty and Beverly has an idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware of this chapter, there is a nongraphic rape scene. Despite that, hope you enjoy the chapter. I might add to this later, and it is unedited so I apologize now.

They had lunch together. Both girls were seated under an old tree and laughed as they talked and ate. It was nice, Cassidy had decided. There was something about Beverly that could challenge the anxiousness she possessed, burn it up and turn it to ashes in the wind. She shared her lunch with the redhead, shadows colouring their faces with shade. Cassidy always packed her own lunch, never bought the food that was sold at the tuckshop, nor took from the canteen. She didn’t like the food, plus the eyes on her as she passed through the crowded area made her anxious and feel ill.

Beverly watched as the brunette ate her sandwich, lithe fingers seemingly perfect in shape and nails cut neatly. “Are you a rich kid?”

Cassidy stopped her chewing, the movement of her jaw now locked in place with the food mostly turned to mush. She swallowed and winced at some of the lettuce that hadn’t been chewed down properly roughly slide down her oesophagus. “I guess?” She sounded confused. “I mean, we have money but they’re mostly the savings we’ve had from the work my parents have had.” And the extra money her mother had had when she married her step-father, the secret money kept away from Cassidy’s new father. “But you could call us a rich family if the size of the house says anything.”

Beverly hummed, “Can I come over sometime?”

A crack echoed through the area they were seated in as Cassidy turned to look at Beverly, stray strands of her hair flying across her face. Stumbling over her words, “I-If you want to, suh-sure.”  She shrugged and did a little nod with her head.

Beverly grinned. “Great. It’s a date.”

 

❁ ❁ ❁

 

Cassidy stumbled up the driveway of the house she lived in. The white walls seemed more like an empty box or something that would be found in an asylum. There was a dark truck in the driveway; her step-father was home. Jingling came from the keys in her pocket and she sighed and took them out. Sliding them into the lock and turning it, she had a no expression on her face as she stepped quietly through the front door.

The entryway spread into a staircase that split off halfway, showing off different rooms on the second floor of the house. Laurels lined the wall of the small lobby, some having images of a younger Cassidy grinning with a tall woman beside her, eyes vibrant with life. Not so much anymore. She made an abrupt beeline to her bedroom, residing on the first floor, and silently opened the door. It was tidy like it almost always was but she tensed when she saw who sat on her bed. Robert Grindel, an engineer, creased the lavender coloured duvet, his head hanging forward, hands clasped, elbows on his knees as he leant forward.

“You’re _late_ , Cassy.” Head abruptly snapping up, he smiled, a disgusting upturn of flesh.

“I-I was in the library,” pupils dilated, shrinking into the iris.

Robert patted his lap. Cassidy dropped her bag and sat, “But you were late, the usual curfew I set now broken.” Hands rested on her hips and she was pulled back into a chest that made her feel dwarfed. “And you know that I dote on you, so all I ask for back is a little _compensation_.”

She knew what happened next. Always knew once _that_ word was used. God, she missed her mother, the proper, _correct_ type of love she used to have. Not this perverse love, never this perverse love. Cassidy felt cold and her lips dry.

Movement behind her lifted her and laid her down on a soft surface. She was shifted, naked skin exposed to a hot breath and she stared at the ceiling, the white of the paint something that blurred with the movement of her step-father’s caress, a touch that was the worst of ways to caress. Her name was said with praises she never excepted. Hair was pulled and it suddenly it _hurt_. Tears welled. The pain didn’t stop with the forcefulness, only made her body colder. It didn’t end, not for a long time.

She felt tired. Exhausted even. Robert left after an hour, done with his _compensation_. “I bought you a new dress, Cassy.” Her hair was dishevelled, body clammy. “A pretty little blue for my girl.”

Cassidy wanted to vomit.

 

❁ ❁ ❁

 

Cool air made goosebumps surface on her exposed, naked body. The paint on the white canvas gave her some sort of peace, but never enough. She broke out some dismal sound, cheeks salty and wet. God, if there was one above, had turned a blind eye. She needed a shower. Needed someone who would not harm.

The colours were dark. Greys covered the canvas, covered her hands. She wished for liberty. Needed to not feel his touch.

She screamed.

 

❁ ❁ ❁

 

Beverly played with her hair, the cigarette smoke drifting high above her head. She wondered about Cassidy. Wondered how she was, what she was doing, what she felt for her. Beverly wanted to be closer to the brunette, get to know her and treasure her but wasn’t quite sure how. How would she approach her tomorrow? Would she just walk up to her and smile? Or maybe wait at her locker? Did she even use her locker? Beverly didn’t know. She had seen Cassidy carry all her books in her bag earlier that day, looked inside her bag as she pulled out her lunch.

She liked the taste of the chunk of sandwich she had bitten off. Liked that there was paprika mixed with the ham, with the carrot and lettuce. Taste of tobacco had filled her mouth and for once in a long time, Beverly didn’t want to smoke the cancer stick. Almost didn’t mind going home to her father, Alvin “Al” Marsh. His beady stare was almost always in the back of her mind but that discomfort disappeared when the thought of Cassidy resurfaced inside her head.

To get to know Cassidy meant getting to know a female who was older, someone who wasn’t in her grade, wasn’t in her classes. She had to figure out when the girl was free during lunch, had to figure out a reason to be near her, to know her. Beverly needed to figure out how to come up with a reason to hang around her.

With another puff of the cigarette, she wracked her brain and huffed, smoke flowing out in a gush of greys and whites. Licking her lips and pursing her lips in thought, she looked at her school bag, she zippers yanked open to reveal her books. It hit her then. She had a perfect idea, and it was a win-win situation for her anyways as she was having a bit of trouble anyway. It was a great idea.

Cassidy would be her new tutor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the read. I will try to update again soon. Please leave comments and kudos if you liked it. See you next chapter :).


	3. Familiarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor has known Cassidy since they were children, the continuous occurrence of their shared classed nothing to the friendship they used to have. Meanwhile, Beverly acts upon her idea and an inclusion of spider lilies surfaces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter, hope you enjoy. I'm a little early this time around and that is because of the fact that I'm busy at the moment with a siblings' party. 
> 
> I will be trying to update this every two-three days and somedays, I will update later due to various reasons but please bear with me and thank you for reading. 
> 
> Either way, you'll get an incite to a new character that was lightly included in the first chapter so enjoy!

Cassidy trudged through the rain, her new leather boots a shiny black with each splash and step in the puddles. She knew blisters would form. She didn’t bring Band-Aids. The floral-patterned umbrella over her head had aged well, belonging to her mother. She could remember the games they used to play together in the wet weather.

Sudden honking made her jump and snickers were heard as a blue Trans Am flew by. She scoffed at the four boys seated inside the car. She decided to wear stockings today, denim shorts over the thin material. Polo shirt and sweater both clung and hung loosely to her torso, encapsulating her in self-made safety. She could still feel the touch. His touch. No matter how much she scrubbed the feeling didn’t truly go away. She scrubbed ‘till she was red, ‘till little dots of blood surfaced.

Victor watched the brunette as she stood in the rain. He had watched her for years. When she had first moved to Derry, he could remember the shortness of her hair and without the white dress she had worn, everyone in the class would have thought that she was a boy from her features and shoes. He had been attentive to the girl, her cheeks rosy and eyes like the deeper parts of the sea. He had played with her and she had played with him and Reginald and Henry. But this was long before the sandy blonde had grown darker thanks to his terror of a father and the refrigerator-obsessed Patrick joined the goons.

She had helped him when he struggled. Struggled with himself and his school work, struggled with his father and his friends. She was there when he had first changed his hair, the blonde now overpowering the lightly chocolatey roots he had possessed. She had held his hand when his father left, been there when his mother worked too much and had to take care of his sister. She had _been there_.

He could remember the giggles and the smiles and the light. He was there when her unwrapped the pendant she always wore around her neck, was the person who gave it to her. He was there when he had engraved _“STAR”_ into the metal. He was a manmade darkness and she was the star that light up that darkness. They were so close, too close and when a sudden meteor slammed into their little galaxy, it had been a major event.

He had met her mother and her father and saw the happiness and then met her step-father, who tore that happiness apart with his big frame and disgusting smiles. He had felt sick with the square shoulders and the muscular arms. Had tried to be in her limelight, had tried to be the one she could fall back on, but a too large hand had grasped her and ripped apart their galaxy with a huge blackhole.

He could remember how Cassidy had been back then. Frail but so fierce. Victor couldn’t help but wonder where in all those years that had gone by, when had the lively girl no longer become visible to him, hidden in the blackhole.

What happened to his star?

 

❁ ❁ ❁

 

The aptitude that Beverly had taken on to approach her English teacher about the proposition of having an older student tutor her had surprised even herself. Yes, it was her idea but after last night’s sleep, she woke and realized she had forgotten to plan out the idea. Well, some of the best plans were those made up on the spot.

“Miss Marsh, your English grades are fine. There would be no need for you to require more assistance than the one that I give to the class.” Mrs Hareton was an older woman, married to an older man who never seemed to care about anything other than the timing of his food and the steady decline of his sex life with his wife.

“But ma’am--” Mrs Hareton held her hand up, cutting the girl with the gently enflaming hair off.

“No dear, I am sorry.” Beverly chewed on her lip, the urge to puff a cigarette welling in her chest. “There is no year ten student that would have the time to tutor, the shift in workload something they have to adapt too.”

“But Cassidy knows me.” Abruptly blurting, Beverly’s eyes widened slightly. Teeth dragged along her lip before she thought of telling a wee white lie. “She offered to help me, and it can give her more credit.”

Mrs Hareton studied the young girl before she signed and nodded slowly, the shaky inhale accompanying the gesture. “I’ll think about it and go over what grades you’ve gotten in the past and talk too Miss Floris about it but don’t expect anything.” Beverly nodded and tried to hide her almost infectious smile. “Now get to class, dear.” Beverly sent one last smile to the teacher before she grabbed her bag and jogged off with a fumbled “Thank you!”.

The next hour and a half passed by quickly and soon enough lunch came swinging around a shrill ring of the bell echoed around the school. Beverly slipped out of her biology class without being detected. She slipped into the crowd of students that rushed to the cafeteria, hungry for the food that would be served for that day, whether it tasted okay or a few days past its prime. She grabbed a tray of food and snagged another students’ drink while they were too busy being picky.

With quick footsteps, she shoved the packaged food into her bag and jogged out of the teeming cafeteria. Almost deserted halls relaxed her shoulders as she walked up the stairs to the second floor of F block, aiming for the abandoned classroom at the end of the floor. No one wanted to be caught there, a rumour that a group of year eights committed group suicide there back in the fifties and their tormented souls still _floated_ around the classroom. Strange occurrences often happened in that room, the room the sixty-sixth room in the school.

Beverly reached the top of the staircase and walked onto the balcony. She stopped moving when she saw Victor Criss standing in the doorway to one of the classrooms. His arms were crossed over his chest, blonde hair easily seen in the dark weather. The creaking of the wooden boards under Beverly’s boots made his head snap in her direction and their gazes collided. The tenseness in his body relaxed at the sight of the shorter girl standing there and he gave an odd half smile. She furrowed her eyebrows but returned the gesture.

Victor stared at the girl with the gently flaming hair for a few moments longer before looking back into the classroom. His almond coloured eyes were softened, gazing at a girl with impeccable posture. Clavicle pressed against the material of the polo shirt, Cassidy’s head lightly bobbing to the music of Bon Jovi’s _Runaway_. In her left hand was a paintbrush dipped in dark red and she smeared the colour evenly across the canvas, over the blues and greens. The spider lilies were blooming vibrantly and fruitfully, and a hiccupped breath lifted Cassidy’s chest.

Beverly walked slowly towards the blonde, his gaze no longer on her. She peered into the classroom, looking over his shoulder, on her tiptoes. Victor scoffed and shifted, leaning against the doorway contentedly. The sight of a concentrated Cassidy met Beverly’s gaze. Her breath hitched. The image of a sea spread across the once white canvas, crimson flowers flowing across the ocean blue in rich colours.

An eye roll came from the boy and he pushed himself off the doorframe. Victor strode forward, hands reaching for Cassidy. The fingers gently tugged hair out of the tightly wound bun that held enriched locks. Long brown hair tumbled down Cassidy’s back and Beverly watched as the female relaxed her shoulders at the feeling. A fond smile upturned her lips once she saw that it was the blonde who was touching her.

Victor’s pupils shrank at the look Cassidy gave him. He could see the faded stardust inside her, coming from the girl who burned so bright. So very bright. An old gentleness flowed from him. He could remember what he had heard when he was young, could remember how he had recited it to the girl who sat before him and had listened to her as she added to what he had said. _“We don’t own our heaven, we only own our hell. If you don’t know that by now, then you don’t know me that well. We are born alone and will die alone. It’s just how humans are. But when you find someone to treasure, keep them close and care for them. They will be the peace to your war.”_ He had adored her.

Beverly watched the two with a rapt attention. She wanted to know why Cassidy looked at him like that. Wanted to run her hands through those curled, rich strands that cast shadows along the expanse of the females’ pale neck. Wanted to know what this slight tugging feeling in her gut was. She had known Cassidy only a limited amount of days and already wanted to why the thought of the girl soothed her, made her forget about her horrors, was the cure to the poison her father and Derry had injected into her.

Her heart beat loudly in her chest and with the teeth sinking into her lip she strode towards the two. Beverly’s flame burned brightly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I enjoyed writing this one more than the others. The next chapter will include a familiar psycho with solipsistic views and how he interacts with people, but not too much. That's a part of the preview so I'll see you next time and thank you for reading!
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you liked it.


	4. Gasoline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick Hockstetter is a creep and Cassidy really does not like going to biology.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay in the chapter update, I have been so busy lately due to various reasons, some personal, some not. But here is the chapter and just for you, it is longer and has a bit more interaction with Beverly and Cassidy.
> 
> This chapter is unedited so I apologize for any spelling mistakes and grammar issues.

Cassidy spends the lunch with Victor and Beverly, the two not saying a word to each other and only focusing on Cassidy. She enjoyed the company. The awkwardness that would have normally been present wasn’t there and the two who were normally somewhat hostile to one another were placid and even to an extent, tender.

But the bell rang, and that fairy tale had to come to an end.

For Cassidy, biology was a tiring subject. Not because of the workload, rarely because of the workload. It was a tiring subject because of the person who sat behind her in every lesson. Dark hair, pale skin, and a lanky frame; Patrick Hockstetter. He never seemed to be paying any attention to the teacher, only focussing on his pencil case and the green ruler and contents of the pencil case, red, with a wavy white cover, plastic, that slid open and close.

He creeped Cassidy out.

The notebook that Cassidy used had scribbled pictures amongst different notes, presentation of the topics she learned and how they worked, both explaining with words and with imagery. She could feel the beady gaze of the male behind her, his dull eyes lazily looking over the classroom before the clink of the Zippo lighter echoed faintly behind her and in that moment, she was grateful that she had wrapped her hair into a bun. She could still remember the time when Sally Mueller had been the unlucky girl to sit in front of Hockstetter. Poor girl had been touched, light and sweaty and meaty and something the boy used to do when he was younger.

Cassidy shivered, a faint voice in the back of her mind going _almost like Papa’s touch_ but she inhaled sharply and jerkily tilted her head to the right slightly. The tickle of panic rose in her throat, but she swallowed it down. _Not at school_ , she told herself as her pen brushed over the lined paper, _if you’re going to freak do it where others won’t see you_.

God, she was tired. The continuing soft clinks of the Zippo behind her didn’t help but she ignored it the best she could. Her attention to Mr Murray was shortened and almost non-existent due to her fatigue and paranoia from the boy behind her. The topic had something to do with evolution and something to do with the main differences between Charles Darwin’s theory and Jean-Baptise Lamarck’s theory and she could barely even focus, the difference obvious to her so she leaned forward, eyes closing. Wanted the day to end quickly but didn't want to leave the odd security of the school, the in-crowd that the school had.

She didn’t want to go home, not to a house where a handsy man was. Cassidy could feel the bruises on her inner thighs, older and yellow but disgusting and not meant for a girl of her age unless she were willing to play around with another her age that she held affection with. Her hips hurt, the newer bruises layered with half-moon indents, little red scabs healing quickly. Her body knew that the marks were unwelcomed.

“Miss Floris.” She jolted, her eyes snapping open. She hummed and tilted her head. “If you can take the time to sleep in my class you can explain the difference between the two men whom we are studying for this topic.” The number of eyes that were boring holes into her made the oxygen in her lungs constrict, a giggle erupting from behind her that made the goosebumps rise across her body. It was quiet and unnatural and sickening and she could see the leathery lips of Patrick Hockstetter upturning vilely.

She was silent for a few more moments before inhaling sharply, “Both were scientists who tried to understand evolution. Lamarck’s theory of evolution was based around how organisms – animals, plants and others –  changed during their lifetime, then passing these changes onto their offspring. An example being his belief that the giraffe had a long neck because its neck grew longer during its lifetime, because it had to, how the neck stretched to reach leaves in high-up trees, meaning that each generation of giraffe had a longer neck than previous generations.” Cassidy paused momentarily, not bothering to look down at her notebook and exhaled a shaky breath, cool sweat faintly layering her forehead and spine. “Darwin’s theory, however, known as natural selection, believed that organisms possessed variation – where each individual was slightly different from one another – , and these variations led to some being more likely to survive and reproduce than others, the effect of survival of the fittest coming into play here. Darwin’s theory comes into play with the giraffe’s as the longer necked giraffes were more likely to survive, consuming leaves from taller trees, and therefore more long-necked giraffes will be born via the passing of each generation with the passing of DNA, which eventually caused all giraffes to have longer necks through the process of evolution. Longer necked giraffes survived because they were a better fit for their environment, thus reinforcing natural selection, survival of the fittest and evolution.”

Mr Murray stared at the brunette and blinked a couple of times, his rounded glasses having slid to the tip of his nose, almost in a cartoonish sense. A spidery hand gently brushed along the back of her damp neck and gripped lightly. Cassidy jolted and saw the pitying looks of other girls. Patrick had become focused. “Well done, Miss Floris,” the older male nodded his head and snapped out of his stupor and turned his back to the class, to Cassidy, to the too-warm hand against the back of her neck.

“Such a good girlie-girl.”

Cassidy wanted to vomit.

 

❁ ❁ ❁

 

She could still feel the press of the large hand on the back of her neck.

The slam of the locker beside hers’ made her jump and she quickly pulled out her foldup umbrella and shut the small metal door. Cassidy was tempted to go to the library or to the farm that the boy with the skin of rich chocolate was, his smile something that the brunette liked. He was a good boy, possessing a heart of the purest gold. She wished she had some of that gold.

Her thoughts were given a penny to when Mrs Hareton asked what she was thinking. “Nothing Mrs, just wondering how long the rain would continue.” Her insecurities were her demons, not another’s. “Can I help you?” effectively dodging any further inquiries, she smiled at the older woman.

“Ah, yes well, Miss Marsh had asked me if you would assist her in her English studies.” A brow raised in amusement on the brunette’s face and she felt her smile become more real. “She insisted that she knew you and that you alone should tutor her. I refused, your new workload surely something that you would not want.” Cassidy jutted out her hip to the left slightly, her umbrella hocked around her right wrist. “You have your future to think about.”

“I’m sure I can help a girl like Beverly.” She scoffed lightly at the teacher. “She and I are good mates, Mrs Heaton, we get along quite well.”

The elder lady pulled a face, one that she pulled when her husband paid no mind to her and her needs. “Very well then, Miss Floris.” She huffed and smiled lopsided, kind, “Do let me know if the workload is too much, I do know that you take an extra subject.”

Cassidy hated the extra subject.

Latin was classified as a dead language and to be frank, she didn’t understand why she would need to learn it because she isn’t going to be an archaeologist when she is all grown up nor work any jobs that would need to use the dead language. Cassidy did find the class fun to some aspects, but it was just more work and more stress that she essentially didn’t need. Although, the thought of reading what others couldn’t was always empowering in a way.

“I much go now, Mrs Hareton. I have to go collect something.” _What a shit excuse_ , she almost cried in her mind.

“Well then, have a good weekend Miss Floris.” Cassidy wished the lady the same, her smile a little senile around the edges, thoughts muddled with her return to a too big house. They parted, and she sighed loudly once the teacher was walking down the stairs that were rounded the corner of the hallway.

“Time to get my oil paints from the art locker,” muttered Cassidy as she trudged through the near-empty halls of Derry High School. She couldn’t leave them here over the weekend, she’d die is she did. Turning another corner and running her hands along the lockers on the left side, she bumped into someone and grunted. Stepping back, “Sorry, didn’t see you--”

“Such a good girlie-girl.”

Her head snapped up and she saw the dulled eyes of Patrick Hockstetter. A lump formed in her throat and _god please no not this feeling again please let me go by without being a creep just leave me alone_. “I’m just passing through.” Patrick was voracious in the worst of ways. He always, _always_ knew what to do to make people uncomfortable and the rumours that circled him didn’t help either, and if you added the fact that he didn’t seem to deny any of the rumours… well, go figure.

Cassidy looked beyond the tallest figure to see the other members of the Bowers Gang there too, all eyes on her. Moose didn’t say a word, sticking closer to Peter and Gard than Reginald and Henry and Victor. _Victor_. Her pupils dilated at the look he had on his face, a look that was carved into stone. She missed her galaxy, missed lighting up his world. She had been consumed by a blackhole, trapped with its grasp and could now not leave lest she was to suffer the consequences.

“Cassidy?” Beverly’s voice cut through the haze of emotions and she snapped her head to look to the girl with strawberry flaming hair.

She inhaled and pushed through the boys, grabbing hold of her wrist and pulled her close. “C’mon,” she whispered to the other girl, “let’s get out of here.” A hard look was sent to Henry as she shoved her shoulder past him with a huff.

“Girlie-girl, why are you leaving so fast? We were just beginning to have our fun.” She ignored the words that were drenched in slime but a giggle of: “The slut seems to fuck her daddy so why can’t she be with us?”

Cassidy turned to fast and the strike she sent to Patrick was hard. His head turned and the crack from his neck was loud and Cassidy snarled. “Then why don’t you go back to fucking Henry if you’re so lonely. Or better yet, go play with your fridge.” Her sneer let her and Beverly slip away. Both girls sprinted away, the angered shouts of Henry echoing behind the two and Cassidy felt the weight of eyes on her back before she turned the hallway corner.

Her locker was opened in the flurry of disgruntled movements and she shoved her pastels into her bag before slamming it shut. She gripped Beverly’s hand tighter and pulled her along, her lips slowly upturning as she let out a laugh, Beverly giggling alongside her. Both didn’t really know how to face the events they just went through, so they laughed it off as best they could.

As they left the school through the back entrance and Cassidy put her umbrella up, the rain gently pelting against the material. “So,” she began, “I’m going to be your tutor.” Beverly flushed and huffed and Cassidy let out another laugh. “I don’t mind, I just can’t do Thursdays. I have my extra lesson then.”

“I just used it as an excuse to get to know you.” Beverly confessed, and Cassidy slowed in her steps.

“No one has tried to get to know me in a long time.”

“Well,” Beverly squeezed their still entwined hands, “it’s time someone should.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if you did, please leave kudos (if you haven't already) and comment if you want to. The next chapter will be coming shortly.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! I'll be updating as fast as I can so please wait a little bit and the next chapter will be up shortly.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you liked it (if you want to).


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